Choosing Sides
by Bleepy
Summary: super!glee. Pairings include Faberry, Klaine, Brittana and plenty of surprises. Eventually leading to an epic battle. Who will choose the side of good? Evil? Some you may expect, others you will not.
1. Chapter 1: The Center

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**  
><strong>Spoilers<strong>: **None. Completely AU.  
>Warnings<strong>: **Really strange, supernatural phenomena. Lady lovin'. Boy lovin'. Smut? If the story heads in that direction there very well may be. **  
><strong>Author's note: Oh wow! Thank you so much for taking the time to read my fic. If you have any questions about any of the powers of the characters and can't seem to wait until future chapters to find out, feel free to message colfersaurasrex on tumblr. Das me. <strong>

**Chapter 1: The Center**

Rachel was running. She didn't care where; she just knew she had to get _away. _Away from the cruel, enticing whispers that drifted through her window at night. Away from the hot breath that ghosted on her neck every time she attempted to fall asleep. Away from those intoxicating green eyes that haunted her dreams. Away from _her. _

She blindly fled through the streets, willing her aching feet to just keep going. It just wasn't safe for her anymore. Along the tattered buildings she saw the wanted posters mocking her:

_WANTED: The Sirens_

_EXTREMELY DANGEROUS. Several reports of soft, eerie singing in shady parts of town. Witnesses report seeing three women, two blondes and a Hispanic , "disappearing into the shadows." These women have left more than 30 victims comatose in various alleys, bedrooms, and rooftops. We strongly advise the public to keep earplugs on hand. The singing lulls the listener into a hypnotic state eventually leading them to the trio. If you hear singing please insert the ear plugs, get to a safe place and inform the police of the location of the singing. For the safety of the public we have issued a temporary no singing law. Anyone caught singing will be automatically brought in for questioning. If you have any information on the whereabouts or identity of the Sirens please inform your local police immediately. Thank you._

She ran by a group of drunk men, who pelted her with catcalls and jeering. She passed by a shabby convenient store, a construction site, and an abandoned basketball court, dimly aware of where she was going now. Slowing down, she caught sight of the familiar large, white building with warm orange light floating through the windows. The building was surrounded by an intricate, black iron gate. Her legs felt like they had suddenly become anchors and her panicked energy burned away. She approached the building cautiously, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was following. She was back at the Center.

Rachel finally stopped in front the entrance of the Center breathing heavily. She vividly remembered the humiliation she had felt as she sprinted away from the building, feeling the accusatory stares burning into her back. And here she was again after a mere week and a half of running away. They hadn't even bothered to look for her. They knew she had nowhere else to go.

Face burning with shame and doubt, she reached a shaking hand to the intercom.

_"NAME?"  
><em>"Rachel Berry," she said, a slight quiver in her voice.

A camera hidden along the wall suddenly whirred to life and pointed directly at her. She recognized the tired but satisfied voice of a woman instantly.

"Ah, Ms. Berry. I'm very pleased to see you have chosen to come back although the timing could have been better. Please come through the gate quickly. It's not safe at this time of night, you know,"

"Yes, Dr. Pillsbury." Rachel glanced behind her once before darting through the gates. As soon as they closed she released a sigh of relief. Walking towards the building she tried to think of an explanation for her absence. It was a foolish thing to do, really. _I ran because I hated being accused for something I didn't do, not because I'm guilty. _

Rachel timidly entered the building, half expecting the student body to be waiting on her with suspicious glares. Instead, a small mousy woman with red hair was looking at her crossly, adorn with violet silk pajamas. Any other person would have laughed at her lack of intimidation but Rachel knew better. Dr. Pillsbury was not someone you took lightly.

"You can explain in the morning, Ms. Berry. Please go to your dormitory. No sneaking into the boy's," she added, winking at Rachel's scandalized expression. Rachel watched her go up the marble stairs, marveling at how _normal_ she appeared. Then she thought of those that had made the same assumption and attempted to take advantage of it. They now lacked a few motor skills.

Shaking her head she quietly walked down the long corridor until she was in front of her door. Her carefully printed name on a golden star was still there along with "Tina" and "Mercedes" printed on circles. It made her feel more reassured about her decision to come back. To come home. She knocked softly.

The door opened immediately and a dark hand yanked her inside. Rachel soon found herself enveloped in a bone crushing hug, lights flickering on. She vaguely registered a flailing Tina, sobbing hysterically, bubbles flying all around her.

"Don't you _ever _pull shit like that again!" Mercedes growled, seeming to not realize she was suffocating her friend. "I oughta beat your white ass, Berry. A WEEK AND A HALF! They wouldn't let us come find you!"

"They wouldn't let us come find you!" Tina repeated, wailing.

"I'm sorry Mercedes I can expla-"

"The Sirens are all over the news! And you just run out there like a crazy, rebel white girl thinking you gonna save us all. I OUGHTA BEAT YOUR ASS, BERRY."

"I wasn't trying to save-"

"I damn know very well what you were doing! YOU COULD HAVE DIED!"

"You could have died!" Tina said again, a complete mess on the floor.

"Tina calm down! You're getting bubbles all over the place, damn," Mercedes batted a few away for emphasis, finally releasing Rachel.

"I'm sincerely sorry you guys were worried but I'm fine. The closest I came to danger was suffocating between your African boobs, just then," she joked, still out of breath. She tried not to let the memories of sleepless nights in hotel rooms show on her face. Mercedes could see right through her, of course. She always could.

"I know you're hiding something, Berry but I promise I'ma get the truth out of you eventually, so help me God. For now, rest. TINA, LORD OF MERCY, STOP CRYING! YOU'RE TURNING OUR ROOM INTO A DISHWASHER."

Tina swallowed back a sob and pulled on some gloves to keep the bubbles from erupting from her fingers. Rachel smiled as she climbed into her familiar bunk, eyes stinging with gratitude. She was loved and wanted. How could she forget? She fell asleep quickly, confident that no matter how many people thought she was guilty, those that believed her innocent would help her make it through.

* * *

><p><em>"You're lying, Rachel. You didn't run away because you were afraid of their judgment and you know it."<em>

_Rachel sank against the wall, watching the growing shadow inch closer. She had nowhere to go._

_"You ran away to find me. You still want me. I know you do."_

_She curled into a ball, covering her face with her hands._

_"I'm right here, Rachel. You don't have to pretend anymore. Look at me."'_

_"I don't want you! I never wanted you! You hurt all those people, Quinn. You're a monster. I could never want a monster like you."_

_Rachel felt strong hands pull her arms away from her face. She found herself staring helplessly into cold, green eyes. She felt her hot breath settling over her lips in a way that made her shiver._

_"I may be a monster… but so are you, Rachel. I'm the only one who knows the real you." Grinning maliciously, she gripped Rachel's wrists so hard they threatened to break. And then she leaned forward, lips parted…_

Rachel bolted upright in bed, lips tingling like a slow poison. She tangled her fingers in her sheets in frustration. It never failed. It never fucking failed. No matter how hard she tried to forget about Quinn Fabray, every night there she was. Taunting and terrifying and sinfully gorgeous- and oh fuck, why did she think that last one? She fell backwards roughly, gritting her teeth.

"I don't want her. And I'm not a monster," she muttered to no one in specific. She heard Mercedes grunt, seemingly in agreement, and then fall back into her pattern of familiar snoring. Rachel lay there, trying not to feel like she was drowning. She didn't sleep the rest of the night.


	2. Chapter 2: The Sirens

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**  
><strong>Spoilers<strong>: **None. Completely AU.  
>Warnings<strong>: **Really strange, supernatural phenomena. Lady lovin'. Boy lovin'. Smut? If the story heads in that direction there very well may be. **  
><strong>Author's note: Oh? Here for more? Let me know what you think! This chapter is also short but introducing my characters always seem to be that way. Don't worry! Longer chapters in the future!<br>**

**Chapter 2: The Sirens**

"Ohhh, he smells heavenly," Santana crooned, running her blood red fingernails down his chest. He stood there motionless, eyes blank and lifeless. She pressed her lips right next to his ear, breathing him in.

"Do you think I'm pretty?" she purred against his jaw.

"Yes," he replied dully.

Santana pushed him over with an aggravated noise. He lay there on the cold kitchen tiles, staring at nothing.

"Playing with your food again, Santana?"

A lovely woman with bright red lips and long, golden hair glided into the room without a sound, her emerald eyes humorless.

"They're so boring. I would at least appreciate a little dirty talking before I suck their life away. Is that too much to ask?"

Santana climbed on top of the immobile man, running her fingers through his blonde hair.

"What's your name, handsome?" she asked sultrily.

"Jeremiah."

"I had a goldfish named Jeremiah once. It died."

Brittany settled beside Santana gracefully, seeming to come out of nowhere.

"Hey Brit. Want to share?" Santana offered, her eyes teasing.

Quinn walked around the kitchen sulkily, annoyed with her friend's affinity for trying to seduce her victims before she destroyed them. It was a waste of time, really. You can only do so much for a person under hypnosis. She picked up an apple from a counter and watched with disinterest as the color faded to gray.

"Santana, will you hurry up already? I'm not in the mood to deal with this guy's parents. Old people taste disgusting."

"You're such a bitch lately, Quinn. Still worried about _her?_" Santana spat the word out like it was an expletive.

Quinn grabbed a glass pitcher and threw it across the room, her face contorted with rage. It shattered against a wall.

"_Don't fucking bring her up,_" she seethed.

Santana looked up with a bored expression.

"I'm sure we can find someone to release some of that sexual frustration. We know very well _she's_not going to give it up soon-"

Quinn was on her in an instant, pinning the smirking Latina against a wall.

"I said _drop it,_" she snarled, pressing the other girl so hard into the wall it cracked.

"Alright fine, get the fuck off me, Fabray," Santana shoved the enraged blonde off of her, ignoring Brittany's fearful expression.

After a moment, Quinn carefully composed her face into one of apathy. She settled in a wooden chair, studiously ignoring her companions.

Santana returned to her previous position on top of the boy named Jeremiah. She wasted no time pressing her lips against his, images of his secrets and wishes instantly filling her mind. After a moment, she let out a harsh laugh.

"No wonder I had no effect on him. He's a closet Richard Simmons, this one. Dreams of owning a gym for the sole purpose of staring at guys' muscular asses all day."

Brittany's shoulders slumped. "I bet he would have made a fantastic gay gym owner. I always hate this part. I don't like knowing what I'm taking away."

Santana's eyes fluttered shut in pleasure, feeling Jeremiah's vitality course through her body like ecstasy. She saw his mother questioning his long hair, him embarrassed to admit it was an attempt to attract a boy he had a crush on. She saw him looking enviously at his friend's baby hedgehog. Clearing his website history after another afternoon of googling pretty boys. And then deeper things. His grandfather accusing him of being a "worthless fag" and his parents vehemently disagreeing. A faceless stranger holding his hand, murmuring that he loved him and everything would be okay. Introducing his husband to a family that didn't judge. Starting a family of his own. It was sort of like a date, Santana thought through her haze of bliss. Dinner and a movie.

Suddenly, sirens were blaring. Santana leapt from the spot, energy and strength filling every nerve. In an instant, the three girls left the house leaving the now comatose Jeremiah cold and alone on the floor.


End file.
